It was Jan. 4, 2007, when we got the call.

My friend, Yvette, said if we still wanted her two kittens, we could have them because her landlord informed her she could keep her dog or the kittens, but not both. She said she needed an answer quickly.

“We’ll be there in four hours,” I said.

We were in Needham, Massachusetts, visiting Phil’s father. Yvette was in Skowhegan. A few weeks prior, she had shown me a photo of her kittens and I told her if she ever wanted to give them away, I’d take them.

Our cat, Chloe, 18, had died a few weeks prior and we were still missing her. We thought it might be too soon to get another one but we saw Yvette’s phone call as serendipitous.

We drove north, stopped at our house in Waterville to retrieve Chloe’s cat carrier and headed for Skowhegan.

Soon after knocking on Yvette’s door, we saw a little gray-and-black striped kitten rounding the corner of the dining room, her small, sleek, black litter mate in tow. They were playful, curious, beautiful.

Being only 3 months old, they both fit into the cat carrier and we ferried them home to Waterville.

Immediately upon being released from the carrier, they began surveying their new digs, padding around the inside perimeter of the house, acting as if it were already theirs.

Amy Calder’s cat, Bitsy, died on Aug. 21, five weeks before she would have turned 18. Photo courtesy of Amy Calder

Indeed, it became so. From that moment on, they owned us. They got whatever they wanted, and we spoiled them. They deserved it. They loved us unconditionally.

For several nights, we lay awake discussing names that would fit their demeanor and personalities. We decided on Bitsy for her, Pip for him.

They were delightful housemates, always entertaining and surprising us, and making us laugh. They would play and explore and lie on our laps, purring, when they wore themselves out.

Then in 2016, Pip became sick and was diagnosed with cancer. He didn’t live long. His death was devastating. He was such a good cat and asked for nothing but our affection.

We thought Bitsy, too, would be sad about the loss and we worried about her. We needn’t have. It quickly became evident she relished being the queen bee, drawing all our attention and ruling the roost.

As time went on, Phil shared that he had always wanted an orange cat. We found one at the local animal shelter, a tiny kitten, sleeping soundly in a cage full of his litter mates, romping around, meowing and hanging off little cat swings.

A few days later, we brought our orange feline home and Phil named him Thurston.

Upon meeting Bitsy, Thurston fell in love. He regarded her as his mother and wanted to play with her, but Bitsy would have none of it. She growled and hissed at him.

But they eventually acclimated to being housemates. When they went outside, they acted as comrades against the fierce mini-jungle that is our neighbor’s backyard. As Bitsy grew older, Thurston would look out for her, rushing to her side at the sight of an intruder.

Time marched on. Last fall, our veterinarian, Dr. Smith, told us Bitsy had kidney disease. She lost a lot of weight, going from 9 pounds to 5. We started feeding her kidney care food. She seemed to do OK, but we knew her time was limited.

She lost even more weight over the summer, became bony and frail and lost her joie de vivre. She was a shell of her former self.

We began grieving, I think, even before she left us Wednesday, Aug. 21, five weeks before she would have turned 18. Our vet was compassionate and empathetic to the end.

Phil and I are bereft, of course. Thurston, now 7, looks for her. It is painful, the emptiness that has overtaken the house in her absence. We try to figure out who we are without her.

But, as those who have lost beloved pets know, the ache will ease with time. And the only thing to do now is put one foot in front of the other.

And take comfort in imagining Chloe, Pip and Bitsy together somewhere, frolicking in the grass, tails and whiskers tilted toward the sun, knowing their humans won’t be far behind.

Amy Calder has been a Morning Sentinel reporter 35 years. Her columns appear here Saturdays. She is the author of the book, “Comfort is an Old Barn,” a collection of her curated columns, published in 2023 by Islandport Press. She may be reached at acalder@centralmaine.com. For previous Reporting Aside columns, go to centralmaine.com.